Prec. We must be patient. Smooth this pillow for me. (She sleeps again. Noise from the garden, and voices.) Voice. Muera! Another Voice. O villains! villains! Lara. So! have at you! Voice. Take that! Lara. O, I am wounded! Dol. (shutting the window). Jesu Maria! ACT III. SCENE I. -- A cross-road through a wood. In the background a distant village spire. VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO, as travelling students, with guitars, sitting under the trees. HYPOLITO plays and sings. SONG. Ah, Love! Perjured, false, treacherous Love! Enemy Of all that mankind may not rue! Most untrue To him who keeps most faith with thee. Woe is me! The falcon has the eyes of the dove. Ah, Love! Perjured, false, treacherous Love! Vict. Yes, Love is ever busy with his shuttle, Is ever weaving into life's dull warp Bright, gorgeous flowers and scenes Arcadian; Hanging our gloomy prison-house about With tapestries, that make its walls dilate In never-ending vistas of delight. Hyp. Thinking to walk in those Arcadian pastures, Thou hast run thy noble head against the wall. SONG (continued). Thy deceits Give us clearly to comprehend, Whither tend All thy pleasures, all thy sweets! They are cheats, Thorns below and flowers above. Ah, Love! Perjured, false, treacherous Love! Vict. A very pretty song. I thank thee for it. Hyp. It suits thy case. Vict. Indeed, I think it does. What wise man wrote it? Hyp. Lopez Maldonado. Vict. In truth, a pretty song. Hyp. With much truth in it. I hope thou wilt profit by it; and in earnest Try to forget this lady of thy love. Vict. I will forget her! All dear recollections Pressed in my heart, like flowers within a book, Shall be torn out, and scattered to the winds! I will forget her! But perhaps hereafter, When she shall learn how heartless is the world, A voice within her will repeat my name, And she will say, "He was indeed my friend!" O, would I were a soldier, not a scholar, That the loud march, the deafening beat of drums, The shattering blast of the brass-throated trumpet, The din of arms, the onslaught and the storm, And a swift death, might make me deaf forever To the upbraidings of this foolish heart! Hyp. Then let that foolish heart upbraid no more! To conquer love, one need but will to conquer. Vict. Yet, good Hypolito, it is in vain I throw into Oblivion's sea the sword That pierces me; for, like Excalibar, With gemmed and flashing hilt, it will not sink. There rises from below a hand that grasp it, And waves it in the air; and wailing voices Are heard along the shore.